


A Past's Echo

by Prentice



Category: Dracula & Related Fandoms, Dracula (TV 2020), Dracula - Bram Stoker
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Blood Drinking, Blood and Violence, Bloodplay, Cultural Differences, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Domestic Kink, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Mild Feminization, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Character Death, Past Relationship(s), Period-Typical Sexism, Possessive Behavior, Religious Content, Religious Discussion, Romance, Seduction to the Dark Side, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:15:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22411612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prentice/pseuds/Prentice
Summary: Sometimes recognition takes time and sometimes it hits you over the head like a blow. Other times, it does both.
Relationships: Dracula/Jonathan Harker
Comments: 29
Kudos: 237





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a one-shot and slightly ballooned into something else entirely. Chapters vary in length since I'm essentially re-writing the first episode of the BBC series to suit my own creative purposes. Some scenes will seem very familiar, some won't. Also, I borrow heavily from Francis Ford Coppola's Dracula when it comes to portions of Vlad's past (i.e. Elisabeta). 
> 
> Additionally, fair warning, Vlad's a lovable dick but he's still a dick. He's also every bit the monster he's made out to be, just not so much to Johnathan in this. If you find that triggering, please stop reading and find something more suited to your tastes as I'm not planning on soft-pedaling the fact that he's a vampire (and not the kind that sparkles in the sun). 
> 
> As always, check the tags. I'm not your mum, your bff, or your therapist and your reading habits are your responsibility so be informed and empowered and have fun!

_It was her._

Body stiffening, Dracula stared down at the pilfered journal and it’s strangely delicate handwriting. Too delicate, really, to belong to a man. Especially a man like Johnny, and yet…

Hands shaking, he trailed his nails gently against the journal’s pages. The graceful loops and swirls of written words stirring memories he was sure had been long forgotten. Long suppressed.

_Elisabeta._

_His past._

_His love._

_His…_ bride.

Fingers curling, Dracula – Vlad – stared blankly at the delicately filled pages, undead heart aching sharply in his chest. The distant but remembered clang of swords and screams echoing inside his mind. His jagged teeth aching inside his skull as he recalled cold water and icy fingers; the broken body of his lost love cradled desperately against his breaking heart.

_My beautiful Beta, how could I forget you?_

He had vowed – sworn – _screamed_ before a God he no longer believed in that he would never forget her face. Would never forget her sacrifice. Would never forget her beauty.

And yet…

_Oh, Johnny, I have been a fool, haven’t I?_

Lungs filling with useless breath, Vlad closed his eyes, palm flattening against the journal as he reached for the deep internal center that connected him to all things within his dominion. Searching, perhaps a tad desperately, for the beguiling little spark that had held his attention so thoroughly over the last few months. The small and merciless cruelties he had visited upon it doing nothing to diminish its soft eternal beauty.

_There._

Exhaling sharply, Vlad’s eyes snapped open, lips pulling into a satisfied little grin as he tipped his head in the direction he knew instinctively he would have to travel in. Just Southeast of here, where the Danube River branched off and spread into smaller lakes and tributaries that fed the land and the people surrounding it. Not that there were many left these days what with his need to feed and feed well before his long journey; methodically gorging himself on the frightened population that surrounded his home so that he would be able to survive his carefully planned voyage to new horizons.

Which meant that Johnny – _his_ Johnny, a part of him crowed gleefully; possessive hunger stirring like an awakening beast in his belly – would have had to travel for quite a distance in order to receive the help he had so desperately searched for when he was under Vlad’s unknowing and therefore unquestionably cruel care.

_Do not fear, my bride,_ Vlad vowed silently, something tender and soft edging his thoughts even as the beast in his belly shivered hotly in anticipation. _Now that I know, things will be different._

Flipping the journal carefully closed, Vlad stood, fingertips lingering on the soft worn leather for a moment before turning determinedly towards the open doorway, eyes gleaming in the darkness.

It seemed that he had a Bride to find.

_I’m coming for you, Beta._

_Johnny._

_I’m coming, darling._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update since this is a short one! :)

Traveling by animal was always a thrill.

The singular focus and endlessly unique bonds he had with all his creatures helping him to not only travel far and wide but also _fast_ beyond his home’s borders as he moved at breakneck speed through the countryside; senses searching obsessively for his lost love. His burgeoning hunger and excitement growing with every small village and settlement he passed through. Blood and carnage following like a devastating tide in his wake.

_I can feel you, my blue-eyed boy,_ Vlad thought eagerly as his wolf-paws cut a swift path through the trees; bats swooping high and low around him, the flap of their wings like thunder through the forest. _I’m almost with you. I’m almost there, darling._

And so, he was.

The trees surrounding him abruptly thinning as he neared the edges of another village and the moderately sized Convent beyond it.

_Nuns,_ he mused delightedly, black fur stirring lightly in the breeze as he stared down at the quiet village. It had been forever since he’d had a nun. A half a century at least; the last one foolish enough to cross paths with him begging her God for mercy when she realized that _he_ would show her none.

Paws shifting in the dirt, Vlad’s head lifted, ears twitching excitedly as he howled in the murky moonlight. The distant echo of other cries joining his as bats swarmed like a plague of locusts through the trees. The shadows behind him shifting and growing as the tender fingers of a rising fog crawled slowly down into the valley and village below; blanketing the earth until he would be nothing more than a specter in the mist to the superstitious villagers.

_Oh, Johnny, nuns!_

_You do so love to surprise me._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that this is an alternate universe so we _will_ be diverging from canon fairly quickly...
> 
> Also, thank you so much for the support! <3

Crimson eyes glinting, Vlad stared ecstatically at the Nun before him.

Oh, but she was a clever one.

Not quite as bright or interesting as Johnny – after all, his darling bride had at least understood you didn’t _willingly_ give your blood to a creature such as him – but even so, she was undeniably clever.

Clever and perhaps even a little dangerous considering how much she had managed to deduce from the paltry bit of knowledge she had gleaned from having his Johnny in her care. Not a small feat, that. Many more educated men and women had tried over the centuries and had ultimately paid the price for their hubris.

_Pride goeth before a fall_ , Vlad thought merrily, eyes scanning curiously across the courtyard; his gaze skip-skidding past the array of stake-wielding nuns shuffling nervously at the woman’s back. He knew Johnny was here somewhere. He could feel it in his bones; the instinctive and unholy knowing he often felt buzzing beneath his skin. 

“You will not have him,” the Nun – _Agatha_ , a woman’s voice called gently through his borrowed memory, the syrupy sweet taste of childhood heavy on his tongue, _Agatha, schatz, it’s time for prayers_ – stated plainly, face set as she stared at him through the open archway. “He is not like _you_ ; a mindless _animal_ who comes begging for scraps at our doorway.”

“Believe what you like,” Vlad replied easily, teeth glinting as he snapped almost playfully at the nun beside her. Squeaking, the woman stumbled, feet catching against the flagstone as she hastily took a scrambling step back. Chuckling, he continued: “I think you already do, though, don’t you, _Agatha_? Questioning your _faith_ , testing your _theories_ , and putting your fellow Nuns in _danger_. Not at all what your _little book_ tells you to do, is it?”

Eyes narrowing, Agatha straightened, chin lifting as she gathered her dignity around her like a shield. “Count Dracula, please attend my words carefully: you _will not_ have him. You _are_ _not_ welcome here and you _will_ _not_ be invited in. I _will_ make sure of it.”

Turning sharply on her heels, Van Helsing retreated, pale blue habit billowing around her as she made her way quickly back towards the Convent’s inner sanctuary. Her fellow Nuns hesitantly following suit when it became obvious he wouldn’t cross the threshold. Their wooden stakes held tightly in their hands as they slowly backed away from him.

Snorting, Vlad grimaced, carelessly tossing the blade with her blood onto the ground; the strangely intriguing taste of her life settling on his tongue. It really was too bad he would have to kill her. She would surely have made for an amusing diversion during their voyage to England.

_Although…_

Head tilting, Vlad studied the now empty courtyard, sharp teeth peeking from beneath his lips as he suddenly and rather impishly grinned. 

_My Johnny **will** need to eat. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translation** :  
>  _schatz: translates literally to 'treasure' in German but is often used as a general use term of affection (i.e. darling, sweetie, sweetheart) for a loved one (or so I've been lead to believe)._
> 
> I debated fairly heavily whether to use the Dutch form (schat) or German form (schatz) but decided to err on the side of caution and use the German simply because of the Van Helsing name. I'm not sure if it matters in the long run (or if I should have used a more diminutive form of the word) but if anyone has any strong opinions about it one way or another, please let me know as my knowledge of German is fairly limited at the moment.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interlude with Agatha before a long awaited reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this a day early because it amuses me far more than it should to post an Agatha-centric chapter on a Sunday (where I live). Thank you so much for the support, comments, and kudos! I can't tell you how much it means to me and how it keeps me motivated. <3

“You know what you are doing?”

Head lifting from where it was bowed over her open journal, Sister Agatha Van Helsing stared up at the Mother Superior, fountain pen poised over her latest entry. It was only half-finished; the need to get her thoughts down quickly forcing her to jot down as much as she could remember from her encounter with Count Dracula in her own form of shorthand. Fresh observations and new theories clamoring for attention inside her mind as she dutifully noted down everything she could think of from their short confrontation by the gates.

It was a habit she had established not long after her fateful first meeting with Mr. Harker. His own fascinating account of his time in Dracula’s castle and care a strange and wondrous tale too far from believing, and yet…

She did.

Even before the proof of it had stood before her. Even before it had transformed from beast to man in front of her. Even before it had licked her blood from her blade and _known_ her.

She had believed him.

Had _had_ to believe him, if only because her scientific mind would not allow any other alternative to his affliction. His mannerisms. His…complete and utter lack of pulse.

It was…

Well, to be perfectly frank, it was quite possibly the most fascinating thing she had ever borne witness to in her relatively long life, even beyond her own complicated history with her own calling to her Faith.

May God forgive her for the comparison.

“Sister Agatha?” Mother Superior prompted when she did not immediately answer, the woman’s face looking drawn and pale in the flickering light from the candles. “Did you hear me?”

Fingers flexing around her pen, Agatha hesitated for a moment before carefully placing it on the table next to her half-finished journal entry. She would have to attend to it later, it seemed. She only hoped she would remember all the details.

Turning, she folded her hands in front of her, ink-stains stark on her skin as she studied the Mother Superior’s face. It was a surprisingly kind one. At least, it was to Agatha, who knew just how much of a chance the woman had taken when she had accepted Agatha and her unorthodox approach to her Faith under her wing when she’d arrived; disgraced and stinking of the Church’s ridiculous bureaucracy.

“Do any of us?” She questioned after a moment’s contemplation, eyes meeting the other woman’s own as the sound of wolves howling could be heard faintly in the distance. Dramatics, she supposed. Count Dracula certainly seemed fond of them.

“What?” Mother Superior asked, eyes widening anxiously as she glanced up towards the double windows that, in the morning, would let in such glorious sunlight but now only shined with the murkiest of fog-shrouded moonlight.

“You asked me if I knew what I was doing,” Agatha supplied as she watched the woman shuffle uneasily on her feet in the open doorway. “And so I must ask you: do any us? Know what we are doing?”

“Agatha,” Mother Superior started, only to hesitate, eyes snapping back to her when she shook her head almost forcefully, habit rustling around her as she stood.

“Do any of God’s creations know, Mother Superior?” Agatha continued, the lone call of a hungry, dangerous, _fascinating_ wolf underscoring her words. “Or is it only the Devil who _truly_ knows?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't plan to do many 'interludes' in this fic but please let me know if they work for you going forward as I _do_ actually want to establish that Dracula is ~~a drama queen~~ dangerous.


End file.
